


For Now

by ashisfriendly



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Air Force, Airplanes, F/M, First Meetings, Meet-Cute, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 16:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8998180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashisfriendly/pseuds/ashisfriendly
Summary: Leslie Knope is spending the holidays, alone, in Florida, but on her way there she finds someone who could make the holidays a little less lonely.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookworm03](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm03/gifts).



> MERRY CHRISTMAS NICOLE!!!!!!! Thanks for being such an amazing, talented friend. <3
> 
> And thank you, Hana, for being my beautiful advisor and beta.

Leslie isn’t particularly fond of the middle seat. She can’t imagine anyone really is, but she tries to find the optimism in it somehow. Perhaps no one will sit on either side of her and she can move after takeoff. Maybe she’ll sit next to someone who has snacks to share, even though her own bag has enough snacks to last her this plane ride and then some. Maybe they’ll want some of her snacks and they can share some polite conversation. Most likely, though, both of her seatmates will sit quietly, listening to headphones or reading books, and hopefully none of them take up more than their fair share of the space or clip their nails.

It’s the holidays and she’s traveling; she just has to find silver linings where she can get them.

She settles into her seat after placing her bag in the overhead compartment. She has a very small purse with a few chocolates and two cookies in it, along with her book tucked under her arm. Ann let her borrow it, an Emily Griffin novel, which is more Ann’s style than Leslie’s, but a nice, romantic read is good for plane rides. Distracting, fun, maybe a bit silly. She hopes she doesn’t cry or anything, Ann didn’t mention anything about crying while reading this book.

Maybe she should ask her.

Leslie takes out her phone and scrolls through her texts to get to Ann and starts typing when someone stops at her row.

He’s not looking at her, but at the seat past her. His eyes drift over to her and he politely smiles, pointing at the seat.

“That’s mine,” he says.

Leslie nods and scoots herself back in the seat. “Of course, yeah.”

“One second,” he says and takes off his backpack.

Leslie keeps typing to Ann, asking her if she’s going to cry on this flight because of this book. The man pushes his backpack into the overhead compartment and Leslie flicks her eyes up to him and catches his torso that is at her eye level. Due to his reach above, his shirt has risen up and she can see the tiniest bit of pale skin with a trail of dark hair leading down into his pants. Her face grows hot, in that way it does when you walk in on someone changing in a store dressing room or something. Like she caught something from a stranger that was just private enough to start a small fire up her neck and into her cheeks.

She sends her text and keeps her eyes on her phone, aimlessly swiping through it to keep her eyes down lest she catch one more weird part of this man’s body that isn’t hers to see. She tucks her feet under her chair as he slides to the window seat. He must’ve planned this flight a long time ago, unlike her, to get a choice window seat. They’re even seated in a row near a wing which makes the window seat extra fun, probably. 

Leslie taps through Facebook. The man next to her adjusts himself in his seat, taking off his jacket and placing it over his lap. He’s chewing gum, she can smell it, one of those harsh peppermint flavors. She can also smell soap on him, as if he just popped out of a shower, which she knows can’t be true, but it’s wafting off of him like he’s just stepped out of the bathroom, steam rising behind him and everything. 

Her phone buzzes with the notification of Ann’s text.

_Probably not, but you’re an easier crier than me, so be careful! :) Love you, let me know when you land._

Leslie texts her back a similar goodbye with more exclamation points and turns her phone on Airplane Mode. She flattens _Something Borrowed_ on her lap, smoothing her hand down the warn paperback cover. This is Ann’s copy, that Ann has admittedly read twice, and Leslie likes that Ann doesn’t mind letting the corners bend or the spine break. Leslie spends so much of her time reading trying to make sure the book keeps its pristine shape, it’s kind of relaxing to hold someone else’s book.

Also, Leslie has left her sticky notes at home so she can’t even write any notes. She is simply going to read it.

Her seatmate stretches his legs one at a time, careful not to bump into her. He digs through the inside of his jacket and pulls out an iPad and a pair of headphones, returning his jacket to his lap. He flattens the fabric and then places the iPad on top of it, plugging in the earbuds. He plucks them into his ears and she can’t help but watch him click through the iPad, scrolling through music, album covers that she’s not familiar with rolling down the screen. He finally chooses something and he’s too fast to switch to another app to notice what it is. She can’t hear it from his headphones either. He’s a very considerate seatmate, someone definitely worth having next to you when you’re in the middle seat.

There’s a gruff sigh and a plop of a body to Leslie’s right. She looks back and there’s a teenager in the seat next to her. Her headphones are already in her ears, music blaring, and she’s digging through her backpack. She looks at Leslie and Leslie offers a polite smile. To the girl’s credit, she does smile back, but immediately goes back to her distressed, moody self. It’s all very stereotypical, the image of her, but Leslie doesn’t mind it, really. Being a teenage girl is a whole other force of nature and Leslie understands. Leslie was a happy teenager, of course, but it came with its fair share of annoyances, misguidance, and moodiness. Leslie always did envy girls with unnaturally colored hair, too, so she looks onto this girl with a bit of admiration, too.

However, Leslie wanted to go to nationals for debate, and colored hair wouldn’t have done her any favors. Her high school haircut didn’t do her any favors at all, actually, but that’s a whole other issue.

The buzz of the plane starts to grow. There’s chatter and coughing and the splattering of loud headphones blaring. Leslie considers grabbing her own headphones, but she’s not sure what she’d want to listen to, anyway, and she wants to be able to hear any pre-flight spiels and safety warnings. She doesn’t fly often, she really hasn’t flown for years, and she’s a tad nervous.

The girl next to Leslie, who Leslie has decided to refer to as Teal Hair, holds onto both arm rests and pushes herself up, folding her legs in front of her criss-cross applesauce, or so it was called in kindergarten. Her knee bumps into Leslie’s leg and she mumbles an apology but doesn’t move, so Leslie decides to adjust, favoring her left side just enough so she doesn’t touch the man in the window seat. The man seems to notice her movement and he scoots toward the window, not in a disgusted or annoyed way, but as if it is unconscious. 

Leslie watches the movement in the plane. Soon everyone is sitting and waiting. She hears a baby toward the front, which she is supposed to think is less than ideal, but she saw the baby come in the plane and the chubby cheeks and little sleepy eyes are still giving her that sweet, awwww feeling from standing in front of the penguin exhibit at the zoo and watching videos of puppies with shoes on. 

A flight attendant gives a short spiel about taking off shortly. Leslie checks the time. They were supposed to take off close to a half hour ago. Do planes usually take this long to take off? They shouldn’t run this far behind, surely. She doesn’t have any strict time constricting plans once she lands, but that’s not what she’s worried about anyway. Is something wrong with the plane?

She looks past her window seat mate and looks out the window, as if there are answers out there. It looks like what she would expect an airport runway would look like. Nothing is on fire or smoking. No one is rushing around yelling for help or whatever may happen if something were very wrong. The weather isn’t so bad, considering, but it’s not super clear either. Maybe that’s it.

Leslie scans the cabin again. The flight attendants she sees are smiling and talking to passengers, possibly ones who have similar questions as her. They look calm, though, so that’s a good sign. She glances at Teal Hair, who is busy playing some game on her phone, earbuds blasting. No one else seems to be panicked about what is happening, some look annoyed, sure, but no one looks worried. Leslie takes a deep breath, counting backwards from twenty, and leans back in her chair again. When she’s done with her count, she looks around again, starting a new cycle of worry. 

“Um, hi.”

Leslie blinks, settling back in her chair and looking to her left. Her window seat mate is turned toward her, headphones now dangling around his neck. This is her first look -- really good look -- at his face. He has brown eyes and a nice, short crop of thick brown hair. His face is arranged neatly in angles and lines, and his mouth is soft and a little pouty, but it curves up just a tad into something of a polite, reassuring smile.

Leslie opens her mouth to say hi, but he keeps going.

“The flight is delayed, but it’s not because anything is wrong. If it were, we wouldn’t take off. Flying is statistically the safest way to travel.”

“Oh,” Leslie says, leaning farther back in her chair. She blinks and then sits up again, turning toward him. Their knees bump. “Was I speaking out loud?”

He laughs, this very nice soft and quiet laugh that just highlights the angles of his face even more. 

“No, you just looked nervous. Like you were waiting for something to explode.”

Leslie narrows her eyes.

“Is something going to explode?”

That laugh again. “I highly doubt it.”

“Right.” Leslie turns and leans back in her seat again. “Right. Yes. Thank you.”

The guy nods and places one earbud in his ear, leaving the other one hanging. This time, Leslie can hear the faint beat and voice from the music. He’s scrolling through his iPad, news articles slowly moving up the screen. Leslie watches passengers move about the plane, stretch, the baby in the front makes a crying sound, but it doesn’t last.

“Reading your book might help,” the guy next to her says, “instead of trying to strangle it to death.”

Leslie looks down at the book, the two ends of it curling in her hands. She lets it go, smoothing out the edges.

“Hah, wow, yeah,” Leslie says, leaning back and taking a breath. “This isn’t -- I’m not, I mean, this book isn’t mine.” He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t steal it, though, I’m borrowing it, from Ann Perkins, delightful butterfly beauty queen and overall great nurse.”

“You borrowed a book from your nurse?” the guy asks. He turns his body just a little bit toward her, his head leaning forward. 

Leslie decides she likes his questioning glances, how his brow knits just a little and he bobs his head with the question a little. She also just noticed his hair is rather untamed even though it’s not very long.

“No, Ann Perkins is my best friend,” Leslie says, smiling down at the book as she continues to try to smooth it out. “She’s amazing. She totally turned my life around. Well, as much as anyone can turn my life around. She says I still don’t sleep enough.”

“I love sleep,” he says. “I’m probably going to sleep on this plane. I have been told I’m a quiet sleeper, though, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“Sleep is for the birds.” Leslie stops fiddling with the book and throws her hands up in some practiced, exhausted flail. “You get nothing done, the world just goes by, and…” 

She trails off, thinking, remembering. There’s a huge reason she doesn’t sleep well, one she doesn’t like to talk about, one that’s just as important as to-do lists piling up in the middle of the night, but she isn’t going to mention it to a stranger. She hardly even mentions it to anyone, except maybe her mom. And her mom only knows because her childhood therapist said it was the reason her 10-year-old daughter wasn’t sleeping anymore.

Window seat guy is patiently waiting for her to continue, probably because Leslie is frozen in a bullet list pose, her index finger poised on her middle finger, ready for her next point. Leslie wills herself to continue, to make something up, to just say sleeping is hard, but she can’t get past her real reason and this trip, this stupid plane, any of it.

“Well, yeah, that’s something to consider,” the man says, his voice soft. He nods and leans back in his chair and the silence goes on.

Leslie finally melts back into a neutral sitting position and thinks of apologizing or saying something to the man next to her, but he’s back to looking at his iPad. His earbud still rests on his chest, music seeping out of it in the way music does from earbuds, all muffled and little and too hard to associate with anything. She notices that she’s not the only one anymore wondering why they haven’t taken off. Even the window seat guy takes a quick, curious look around the cabin. 

A voice comes over the speakers, the pilot, saying they’ll be taking off soon, and that everything is in order. Leslie doesn’t listen as intently as she should. She just keeps reading the first sentence of her book over and over. After the announcement, the man next to her puts the other earbud in, and Leslie figures that’s a sure sign that he isn’t interested in any more conversation.

The teenager laughs next to her and Leslie flicks her gaze to her. Her phone is close to her face, the light bouncing off her dark skin. She laughs again. Leslie smiles and goes back to her book, finally taking the leap into actually reading the thing.

~

The plane finally starts moving thirty minutes later. The cabin turned restless, but Leslie hardly noticed, finally deep into her book. The tiny blare of Teal Hair’s music is comforting, along with the tap of her other seat mate’s fingers on his knee. 

But now, her safety belt on, her book tight in her hands again, while the plane moves along the runway to get ready for take-off, Leslie isn’t comforted by much of anything. Teal Hair is staring at her hands, and the man to her left is watching the world go by through the window, both earbuds plucked from his ears and resting on his lap, iPad tucked between him and the wall of the cabin.

“It looks good,” he says, as the plane moves forward. 

“What looks good?” Leslie asks, leaning forward and toward the window.

The man turns toward her and they’re very close, so close that Leslie can really see the warm brown tones of his eyes and catch that fresh, soap scent off his skin again. His eyes roam her face, and Leslie quickly looks back out the window, trying to see what looks so good from his angle.

“You should sit back,” he says. Leslie doesn’t. “Um, sit back, we’re going to take off.”

Leslie does as she’s told, sitting back in her seat and scooping the book in her hands again to hold onto. 

“I was saying, the plane looks good,” he says, leaning over to her so he can lower his voice. “The runway looks good, the snow on the ground along the sides of the runway, the sky is clear.”

Leslie glances at him, her eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“Taking off is the best part, well one of the best parts.”

Leslie feels the speed and then the lift and she looks out the window, the ground falling beneath them. The man moves to block her view.

“I like any sort of acceleration, really. In the air or on the ground, ready to take off, taking off, all of it. I did my first turn and thought I was going to puke, but then I couldn’t stop turning, really. It was obnoxious. Spins are a whole other thing. My first one was on accident.”

Leslie watches his hand, with it’s long, pale fingers and veins cascading down the top and into his wrists, move and turn like an airplane through the space between them. It spins as much as his flexibility allows. Lesie’s ears are aching and she rubs one with her fingers.

He drops his hand and Leslie’s gaze follows to his knee, where he rubs his hand along his thigh, turning toward her. She looks up at him when he continues.

“Flying is incredible,” he says, with an almost dreamy finality that feels uncharacteristic to his earlier, “Statistically speaking, flying is the safest way to travel,” spiel and countless scientific articles on his iPad. “Take a look.”

Then he moves back against his seat again, revealing the sky through the window behind him. 

There’s something nice and whimsical about the fluff of clouds passing as they move through the sky, it’s all muddled and interwoven with different blacks and whites and greys. It reminds her of Hogwarts, maybe, like flying around on a broom, or cotton candy. Mm, cotton candy.

Oddly enough, though, it doesn't scare her. She isn’t afraid of flying, anyway, she just hasn’t done it in so long, and never alone, that it all felt a little overwhelming. Now that she’s up in the air, it is much less so.

“I’m Ben, by the way. Ben Wyatt.”

His voice plucks her out of her mind and she blinks, turning to him. His lips are turned up in a small smile and it really enhances the sharpness of his jaw and angle of his cheekbones.

“Leslie Knope.” They shake hands. “And you’re a pilot?”

“Yes, for the Air Force.”

“Oh,” Leslie says, her voice lowering. They’re still shaking hands. “Oh.”

His grip loosens on her and she takes the hint and lets him go, balling her hand into a soft fist at her side. 

“For now,” he says and doesn’t continue.

“What do you mean for now?”

“Hopefully, in a few days, I’ll know if I’m getting a new job.”

“Oh, to do what?”

“Space Operations.”

“Like an astronaut?”

He laughs, not to tease her or make her feel stupid, from what she can tell. He looks excited and his eyes flick to the window before looking back at her.

“That’s the idea. But no, not yet.”

“But you want to be an astronaut,” Leslie guesses.

“The only reason I joined the Air Force was to become an astronaut.”

“Hi.”

Ben looks up and Leslie spins to look at the flight attendant. 

“Can I get you anything?”

“I’ll take a Pepsi,” Ben says and Leslie wrinkles her nose, “please.”

“A Coke for me.”

“Unfortunately, we only have Pepsi.”

“Water’s fine, then.” 

The flight attendant passes Ben a can of Pepsi and Leslie a bottle of water. The attendant talks to Teal Hair and Leslie sits back, opening her bottle of water. She takes a swig and then opens her purse to fish out a cookie. She pinches off a piece and pops it into her mouth, the sugar and chocolate beautifully calming on her tongue. Cookies can fix anything, it’s almost as if Leslie can imagine she’s on solid ground again and that she’s spending the holidays with her family and friends.

Something hot prickles along her neck and buzzes inside her chest. It’s that feeling when you know someone’s watching you, but it’s not the bad kind of feeling. Like when you’re a kid and you think there’s a monster under your bed, but your dad is too tired all the time to come into your room anymore to make sure it’s clear. No, not that kind of feeling. The good kind, the kind that makes barista flirtations more exciting.

Leslie slides her gaze over to Ben and finds his eyes playfully watching her, his soda propped in his hand like he’s in a commercial.

“So you hate Pepsi so much you would bypass the soda and caffeine fix to avoid it,” Ben says.

“Pepsi is the poor bastard of Coke who hardly deserves the title.”

“Wow.”

“I don’t know how you stand to drink it,” Leslie says, plucking another piece of cookie in her mouth.

“It’s easy, like this.”

Ben holds up the can dramatically and then tips it back against his lips, pushing his chin up and exposing his neck. He’s not clean shaven, but there isn’t scruff yet either, just a nice dark shadow along his jaw. The muscles along his neck clench, Adam’s apple bobbing, and Leslie doesn’t know where to look, how to focus. There’s his huge hand on the can, fingers pressed into the aluminum, the veins in his neck, the muscles along his skin. When he pulls the can away, he licks his lips and she’s not sure if it’s something he does often or if he’s doing it to demonstrate how delicious Pepsi is, but either way, she is fascinated by the slide of his tongue along his lips.

So Ben, a pilot in the Air Force who wants to be an astronaut, who likes Pepsi too much and reads a lot of news and kind of is a sarcastic butthead, is very cute. Hot. Sexy. 

“Delicious,” Ben says, snapping her out of her horrifying sexualized tour of Ben’s face. “Try some.”

He holds the can out to her and Leslie leans back from the can as if it will bite her.

“I know what it tastes like.”

“If you’re like any other person I know who, ‘hates Pepsi,’ then you don’t know what it tastes like or you don’t remember. It’s okay, I don’t have cooties.”

“I do,” Leslie says.

“Good thing I have my cootie shot, then.”

Is he flirting with her?

“Come on, if you really feel bad about taking some of my _delicious_ Pepsi, you can give me some of that cookie.”

“Okay,” Leslie says cautiously. “Deal.”

Leslie snaps off a piece of cookie and hands it to him, noticing the warm, callused touch of his fingers as they brush hers. She takes the can and takes a sip and swallows, noting all the ways Pepsi just can’t compare to Coke, but enjoys the buzz of the carbonation anyway. She takes a second sip as Ben watches her.

“You took a second sip.”

“For the bubbles,” Leslie protests.

Ben takes a bite of his portion of cookie and scrunches his face and then relaxes against the seat, eyes closed.

“This is very good,” he says, mouth full.

“Thank you,” Leslie says, “I made it.”

“Are you a baker?”

Leslie smiles, looking down at the can. She’s cradling it between her two hands on her lap. She shakes her head and hands the can back to him. He waves her off.

“We can share.”

Leslie, despite herself, takes another small sip.

“No, I work in the Parks and Recreation Department of Pawnee, Indiana.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

“Everything.”

He stares at her for awhile, eyes tracing her face in a zig-zag pattern that’s hard to follow. He has a light smile playing along his lips and his eyes are warm and soft, the playful gleam still in them from his teasing about Pepsi and the giddiness of eating the cookie. The look is almost overwhelming. It would be, if she didn’t really like the chocolate brown of his eyes.

“No, really,” he says, taking the Pepsi can from her. “Tell me.”

So she does.

She tells him about her coworkers. She explains that her boss doesn’t seem to like her very much, but she’s trying to get on his good side soon, hopefully. She tells him about how a lot of the department is closed off, how there’s an apathy to the work that isn’t what she signed up for, but she’s hoping to change. She tells him about organizing the parks catalogue and thinking of new recreation classes and cleaning parks. He asks which park is her favorite and doesn’t look bored when she mentions the type of trees in each one. When she brings up the raccoon problem and he asks what they’re doing about it, he doesn’t seem put off by her Raccoon Infestation Ten Point Action Plan. 

His eyes definitely grow and he laughs a little, but he asks her to explain more about distractible causes and trapping methods, which is farther than she’s gotten with anyone else.

“But raccoons aren’t Pawnee’s only problem, we’re also the fourth obese town in America, and education isn’t doing so great, and I really think if the parks were in better condition, it could help both, really, and diabetes would hopefully go down.” Leslie narrows her eyes and lowers her voice, like a reminder. “I’ll need to write up the connections there and… I’ll need a binder.”

Leslie has time to get a binder, she has no real plans, just to get to the hotel. She brought enough to start a new binder, but not a binder itself. It’d be a rough draft, for sure, she’ll have to work on it more when she gets home. Or if she’s going to Office Depot anyway, it might be worth it to grab some extra supplies, just anything that would be helpful. She can pull up statistics from similar programs, maybe bridge the gap between mental health and capacities with physical health. 

“You’re not just working in government, right?” Ben asks, taking Leslie out of her self-inspired, organization spiral. 

“What do you mean?” she asks, the to-do list fluttering away already.

He’s leaning toward her, which she didn’t notice him doing throughout her explanation of her work, but she definitely notices now. He’s eyeing her, not roaming her face or taking her in, like before, but something much smaller. Just looking at her, listening, wondering. She’s been on a few dates since graduating college, mostly at her mother’s insistence, and none of them _wondered_ about her, not like this.

“You should run for office some day.” 

He says it so casually, like he didn’t just say what she wished anyone would say to her, just once. A historian, a mother, a wife, a ‘sufficient Parks and Rec employee;’ she’s heard all of those. But not run for office -- not in a long time, anyway.

“Well, yeah,” Leslie says, clearing her throat. She sits up straighter and squares her shoulders. “I’m going to be president.”

He salutes her, a tight, proud smile on his face and Leslie’s heart jumps. His eyes stay on her and they’re warm and make her skin burn.

Ben clears his throat, blinking, and he moves back in his seat, looking down at his body. Leslie sits back in her own chair. He points to the Pepsi can in her hand, eyebrows raised, and Leslie passes it to him. 

“You drank quite a bit,” he teases and takes a sip and stares out the window.

Silence stretches and Leslie opens her book again. Ben moves past her to go to the bathroom and Leslie doesn’t miss how cute his butt is, even though she told herself not to look. Teal Hair hasn’t moved much since being on this plane but her hoodie is now covering her fun hair and she’s curled in her seat, picking at her nail polish. Leslie keeps reading and Ben even plucks his earbuds in again.

Nothing happens, really, for awhile. The flight to Orlando is only two and a half hours and it’s already half over. Leslie wasn’t expecting to want the flight to be longer (even though their delayed take off did make it that way), but she finds herself wanting to stay here, in her middle seat, wedged between Teal Hair and Ben Wyatt the pilot. She doesn’t even mind the occasional baby crying and the sound of the airplane or the person somewhere behind her that is obviously horrendously sick with a cold and is giving it to everyone on this plane.

Leslie closes her book and reaches into her purse for the last cookie (in this bag -- there are more above her head) and splits it down the middle and passes one half to Ben.

He blinks and looks down at the cookie, taking it and biting it in half. He does the same face scrunch, fall back in the seat routine he did the first time he tried the cookie earlier and it makes Leslie smile far too big.

“These are so good,” he says, pulling his earbuds out. “How can I persuade you to make me these all the time?”

Leslie’s cheeks burn, and not just from the compliment.

“Will you send me pictures from space?” Leslie asks. “When you’re up there, I mean.”

Now Ben is blushing, his usual confident eyes faltering a little under her future plans. His blush runs up his neck and tinges his ears and he’s smiling earnestly, but trying to hide it with a bite of his lip. He nods.

“Of course.”

They eat in comfortable silence. Ben brushes the crumbs off his pants and asks a flight attendant for more water.

“Here, I still have some,” Leslie says, handing him her bottle.

He thanks her and finishes the bottle just as a new one is delivered to them. Ben balances it on the armrest between them.

“So,” Leslie says, pushing herself up in her seat, and bending her legs beneath her. She’s turned toward him, hands clasped in her lap. Ben raises an eyebrow at her and she enjoys this look. The one that says he’s curious and ready. “Tell me why you want to be an astronaut.”

“How long is this flight, exactly?”

Leslie laughs and then says, “The short version, then, For now.”

Ben blinks and Leslie’s stomach twists at the prospect she’s just made. _For now_. He said it about being a pilot earlier, about the future and she’s said it as if there is time after this flight between them.

It turns out Ben has loved space since he was a child. His older brother, Henry, introduced him to Star Wars when he was five and Ben’s been chasing stars ever since. He loves all media that takes place in space, from TV shows to movies, and he was an astronaut or some kind of Star Trek or Star Wars or Battlestar Galactica character for Halloween all throughout childhood. He likes that there’s so much to know, and has finally come to peace with the fact that he won’t know nor even see it all. 

“That's not me, at all. I’m also a huge math fan--”

“Math fan?”

“Yes, a fan of math. Possibly math’s biggest fan,” Ben says proudly and Leslie scrunches her nose. “Anyway, I like math and puzzles and need to know everything and figure everything out, but not space. I’m fine not knowing everything, it may be the only thing I’m fine with not knowing and it’s very freeing, you know?”

She doesn’t know, not really, she also chases facts and history and needs to solve all the problems when they’re laid before her.

“But,” Ben says, “the great thing about space travel and everything that comes along with it, is it requires so much knowledge and skill and calculations and knowing, that it all evens out. It will always make sense, even when it doesn’t.”

“Space is kind of scary,” Leslie says, her voice lower than she meant it to be, but she finds it hard to talk when she’s watching him talk about space.

Ben nods. “Yeah.”

Ben zones out, looking just past Leslie, something turning behind his eyes. Leslie thinks about space, something she’s hardly thought of, really, but when she does, like during a few units in high school, she did always find it a little scary. It’s so big, endless. 

“Well,” Leslie says, clearing her throat, shaking out her shoulders. “I’m sorry you don’t live in a time when you can just drive space taxis and hop to other planets with ease. And have a light sword.”

“Lightsaber,” Ben corrects, pointing at her.

Leslie rolls her eyes. “Okay the swords that the people use in Star Wars.”

Ben takes his hand and places it over his heart. “The people? They are Jedis, Leslie.”

“Okay, so I never saw Star Wars, but I didn’t have an older brother.”

“You’ll have to see it. Anything but the prequels.”

“Why not the prequels?”

“Just… no.”

Leslie laughs as he collapses with disappointment over some movies. He slides his gaze to her and asks her not to laugh because it really is very serious and she only laughs harder. A person in the row in front of them looks back over their seat and Leslie covers her mouth.

“Is your brother in Florida?” Leslie asks after taking a few breaths to calm her laughter. Her voice still shakes with it.

“Oh, no,” Ben says, shaking his head. “I’m not going home for Christmas anyway. Thank God.”

Ben deflates again, this time with much more strain, and no humor at all. 

“Me either,” Leslie says, but her defeat comes out in her voice with a shake rather than relief.

“My parents are a mess. My sister is graduating high school this year. I’m hoping once she does that, we don’t have to all try to cram into one house and deal with each other for the holidays anymore. My mom insists on doing it for Steph, which I understand, but good Lord.”

“I’m sure your sister appreciates you having a big family Christmas, though. Everyone together, and all that.” Leslie’s throat feels too tight and she refuses to cry on this plane, in front of Ben.

If he thinks Leslie is about to cry, he doesn’t show it.

“I don’t know why. My dad is such a dick. He has a knack for bringing over young women he’s dating and just… fucking with my mom about it. Sorry.” Ben rubs at his eyelids with his fingers. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to unload on you. I like my siblings, but my parents, especially my dad, can be a fucking nightmare.”

Leslie nods, keeping her face low, hoping her hair is covering the quiver in her chin and the sting in her eyes.

“I’m sure they’re going to miss you.”

“Well, I won’t miss them.”

It’s sharp and awful on his tongue, the way he talks about his family. Not awful like in a mean spirited way, although it’s there, too, but hurtful and painful with a dash of spite.

“You will,” Leslie says. 

She knows it sounds cryptic, but she can’t help it. She’s so close to telling him that at least he has a father to be mad at, but she can’t, doesn’t want to. 

“Hard to imagine,” he says.

Leslie squeezes her eyes shut, bending her head down lower.

“Sorry again. I hate unloading like that on people about my family. I don’t usually do -- are you okay?”

Leslie nods, turning away, because nothing makes Leslie less okay or more likely to cry than someone asking if she’s okay.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean --”

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” Leslie insists, waving him away. 

Ben grabs onto one of her hands and envelopes it into both of his, squeezing. She pulls a little, but he holds on and she gives up, enjoying the warmth and hold. She’d hug him if it wouldn’t be weird, or if he wasn’t somewhat the reason she’s upset.

“I’m sorry, hey, are you okay?”

Ugh, now she’s leaking tears and her nose is becoming stuffed so she has to sniff, which gives her away.

“Leslie,” Ben says.

She looks at him finally, her nose and eyes most certainly red. She wipes at her cheeks and Ben’s face is blurred as she studies him. He’s leaning so far over the armrest that the water bottle has fallen into his seat. His face is taut with worry and it’s almost overwhelming. It almost makes her not feel so weird for thinking about hugging him.

His eyes shift past her and Leslie wonders if Teal Hair is watching this mess unfold.

“Hey,” Ben says, “I’m sorry. Are you… I didn’t… fuck, Leslie--”

“It’s okay, I’m being a baby.”

Leslie sniffs and Ben looks around for a tissue, but Leslie pulls one out of her bag. Ben lets her hand go and she dabs at her face and wipes her nose. Ben uncoils from her more, sitting back in his seat, patiently waiting for her to continue. Leslie doesn’t add any more information, but she likes that he doesn’t put his headphones back in, just sits and looks out the window, checking in on her periodically in a way that he probably thinks is inconspicuous. 

Finally, Leslie feels like she’s past the wave of tears, the tightness in her throat and the sting in her nose. She takes a breath and shoves the tissue in her purse.

“I cry at everything, you should know.”

Ben turns to her, a smile itching at his lips cautiously.

“Okay.”

“So don’t think you’re special or anything.”

This gets a small chuckle and a smile and it puts Leslie at ease.

“I wish I was with my family. My mom is going on a cruise with her friends Caroline and Maggie. Ann is going home for Christmas and I didn’t want to intrude. I was invited to Jerry’s house for Christmas, but I’m not desperate.”

Ben smiles. He waits.

“So I’m going to visit my dad instead.”

Leslie leans back in her chair, head on the hard cushion. Ben matches her and they sit this way for a while, the hum of the plane and babies and coughing peppering through the quiet. Ben watches the sky move through the window and Leslie closes her eyes, pretending. 

She pretends she really is visiting her dad, that they’ll hug at the airport and he’ll smell like his usual Old Spice and sugar. The last time they hugged, he couldn’t lift her off the ground anymore, but in this reality, he can. He does. He calls her Penguin and promises ice cream on the way to his house. Maybe her mom lives in Florida now, too, retiring early because they just wanted more time together. She’d tell them to have more time together.

Leslie opens her eyes, back to the reality. The reality where she gets off the plane and rents a car, goes to Office Max or wherever she can get a binder and other supplies, and checks into her motel, alone. She’ll get dinner at a diner that is recommended on Yelp and stay up late finishing a new binder about education and health. She’ll think of so many good programs, some feasible, some not. In the morning, she’ll wake up with highlighter on her cheek and drive down to the cemetery and sit with her father and tell him anything and everything. Maybe she’ll share that she met a future astronaut today and that she thinks he’d like him. It was Robert Knope who told her about women Sally Ride one night while he pointed out constellations.

“Ben,” Leslie says, turning her head, her cheek flat on the hard polyester of the airplane seat.

Ben matches her.

“I’m not visiting my father. I mean… I am.”

“Leslie you don’t have to--”

“But he’s -- he passed away when I was 10.”

Ben’s eyes fall between them and then float back up to hers. He sighs and slides his tongue along the inside of his cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. His voice is low and full. Something grazes her knee and Leslie looks down to find Ben’s pinky and ring finger touching her. He pulls away. “About your father. About me being an ass.”

“No, no, how would you have known?”

“I know, I know.” Ben shakes his head. “So you will be spending Christmas alone, then.”

Leslie shrugs. “A little yes, a little no.”

Their gazes lock and Leslie’s heart pounds, her skin running hot. She can see him thinking, that motion going on behind his eyes that are hard on her, his tongue pushing against his cheek. He opens his mouth, but closes it again, sucking in his bottom lip and turning away from her. Leslie remembers to breathe, tries to remember any color but chocolate chip brown, but she’s having a hard time coming up with any.

There’s an announcement of their approach to Orlando, marking their landing in approximately 20 minutes. Leslie closes her eyes and after only a few minutes, feels the soft touch on her knee again. This time she doesn’t move or look, possibly doesn’t breathe, and she’s rewarded with soft patterns drawn onto her leg. Her head lolls to her left and she feels weightless and fuzzy, everything good that you feel right before sleep.

Ben coughs and Leslie’s eyes open, dragging her from the darkness. He takes a sip of the water and motions for Leslie to have some. She waves him off and he takes another sip.

“Let’s play 20 questions,” Ben says. “Speed round. We land in ten minutes.”

“Oh my god,” Leslie says, panic hammering her chest. She slept? She actually slept for ten minutes? I mean, that’s nothing to most people but for her, that’s a significant nap and a significant amount of time on this short flight gone. “Yes, okay.”

“Who was your first kiss?” Ben asks and Leslie’s eyes widen.

“Wow, you went for it.” Leslie blinks, thinking. Ben smiles and tilts his chin down like a challenge. “Tony Moskowitz during biscuit making class when I was 13.”

“Remind me to ask about biscuit making class,” Ben says. “Zoey Washington, when I was 12. Spin the bottle.”

“How cliche,” Leslie teases and Ben puts on his seatbelt. Leslie does the same, anticipation and loss swirling in her gut already.

She asks a question, and Ben hits her back with one. They’re going quickly, each of them asking to elaborate more on that “later.” The word later has never felt more promising.

“Favorite breakfast foods,” Leslie says, as they put on their seatbelts. 

“Uh, omelettes, any kind really. Eggs. Toast. I feel like, based on your face, I’m answering wrong.”

“The true answer is all breakfast food, but the even truer one is waffles.”. 

“Noted,” Ben says, his voice low and eyes dark and steady on her. Leslie holds back a shiver. Ben pops a new piece of gum in his mouth and hands her one, asking, “Who are your personal heroes?”

She has quite a long list, ranging from Madeleine Albright to JJ of JJ’s Diner. 

When she’s finally done, Ben says, “Captain Jean-Luc Picard and Jim Lovell.”

“Who--”

“No time, your turn.”

Leslie scrambles for another question, and the questions get progressively sillier until question 20, which is favorite color.

“Blue,” Ben says.

“Yellow,” Leslie says.

Ben looks out the window and Leslie notices their descent. She knew they were landing, but it’s different to watch it. Her ears tighten and she can’t quite hear anymore, like she’s under water. She chews on the gum Ben gave her, trying to get them to pop but it’s not working. The plane bounces with its landing and they glide along the runway. 

Everyone starts gathering their things around them, but Ben stays put so Leslie follows his lead. It takes a long time for them to get to the gate and Ben asks how she’s getting to her hotel, talks about the weather he sees outside and their conversation turns into insignificant small talk. She notices his hands shaking along the edge of his phone as he turns it on and checks his emails. Leslie has gone back to strangling her book, doing imitation yawns until her ears finally pop.

Once exiting starts, Leslie’s heart starts hammering. Her stomach clenches and releases in waves of panic and loss. She keeps catching Ben’s eye, both of them pretending not to look at each other, pretending they aren’t trying to figure out how to take the next step. They said, “Later,” so many times. “For now,” was a motto. Now they can’t arrange the pieces correctly.

And why should they? Ben is going to be an astronaut and do that... here? Wherever astronauts live. Leslie has plans in Pawnee, her family is in Pawnee, her goal chart keeps her in Pawnee for awhile, until she climbs up the ladder of public office. Does she want this feeling to take over her life? Dread and longing and panic, before Ben takes to the stars?

Oh what the hell, she’s insane. She also hardly knows him, who is she to try to plan a future with him, to worry about never seeing him again?

It’s finally her turn to get off the plane and she and Ben (and Teal Hair) have their things ready. Teal Hair is gone in a blink of an eye and Leslie reaches up to grab her bag, but Ben moves to do it for her. She shoulders her bag and Ben does the same with his backpack.

“Do you have to be somewhere?” Ben asks as they walk down the aisle.

“I’m going to get a binder and some other things from Office Depot if there’s one around,” Leslie says. Ben looks down at her, his eyes soft and his smile teasing and knowing all at once. “But I mean, I can do that whenever.” She waves her hand at him very casually, she hopes.

He nods.

“Well before you do that, let’s get a drink. I’ll even buy you dinner.” 

Leslie’s cheeks burn again, but she’s beginning to really like it.

“Okay,” she says.

“Good.”

Ben reaches for her hand, squeezing it, and Leslie moves their fingers until they’re intertwined. His hand is so big, his calloused fingers rough on the top of her hand. His thumb rubs her skin and she chances a glance at him as they walk off the plane.

He’s smiling, looking out the window of the airport and into the sky, where they just met, their place of for nows and possible laters. 

Ben looks down at her, sensing her gaze on him and his kind brown eyes soften even more and he deflates a little in relief, squeezing her hand.

“I love flying,” he says, pulling her closer.

She giggles and leans into him.

“Me too.”


End file.
